Newer, Better, Stronger, More Mature

Major Surgery & the Road to Recovery

I told you two days ago that I’d be back to tell you about my amazing family. I’m sorry I didn’t get back here yesterday. I had a morning appointment with the plastic surgeon to have the sutures removed and then spent the day at mom’s house.

This one is hard to write. How do you put into words how much you love and appreciate those closest to you? Thank you just doesn’t seem enough to express my gratitude. I woke up from surgery surrounded by everyone I love and everyone who loves me. How do you say thank you to the folks who were there as the nurses removed the breathing tube? The people who were there urging me to breathe as so that the nurses would be able to remove the tube?

I never spent one day alone in the hospital or rehab. Someone was always there with me. They came in shifts; my parents during the day, Tommy and Arlene (my brother and sister-in-law) during the dinner hour, and Chuck (my husband) after work. Sometimes my room was full of the above mentioned cast of characters.

I’m so grateful they were all there for me, but I’m even more grateful they were there for each other. In particular I’m so glad they were there for Chuck. My parents always loved him like one of their own so I’ve no doubt they took good care of him during the days I don’t remember. I’m so grateful that Tommy and Arlene sat with him and kept him company.

There’s really a week of my life that I don’t remember and it’s comforting to know that my loved ones were all there watching over me; my five guardian angels. I don’t remember the really and truly terrifying days. Chuck had to make tough and frightening decisions for me. In a way only Chuck, my parents and Tommy and Arlene suffered through them. It was much less scary for me because for all intents and purposes I slept through the worst of it. I’m glad they were all there together.

I couldn’t ask for more kind, loving, generous loved ones. It’s not just the heavy serious stuff that I’m thankful for either. It’s the seeming little things that mean so much.

Chuck spent all of Saturday at the hospital with me in Critical Care ICU. He went home, fed the cats, ate dinner, got my laptop and Netflix DVD, and drove back to the hospital to watch The American President with me. All so we could have some time alone together and so I wouldn’t be alone my first night really awake and alert in ICU.

My mom brought me German Potato Salad and carrot cake from the Cannstatter’s so that I’d have something yummy to eat.

My sister-in-law saw to it that I had all sorts of comfort items. She brought me a plush cat that sang What’s New Pussycat with a Padre Pie rosary/medal attached. I prayed that rosary or just ran my fingers over the beads whenever I felt anxious or scared. Every nurse who took care of me loved (as did I) the Halloween footies she bought me. I’m actually wearing them now. And I’m quite sure that I was the only patient at Cooper University Hospital with a lighted Tigger the Tiger Jack O’lantern.

Tommy could always be counted on to bring me a fresh bottle of Coke, which I hoarded so I’d have it all day.

Really, the stuff that doesn’t seem like much is in fact much. I hated the food in rehab. Every day my parents and Chuck brought me lunch and dinner. That’s five days worth of stopping for food, paying for food and taking the time to eat with me.

I can’t begin to say thanks. I wouldn’t know where to begin. Chuck’s taken so many days off from work to be with me so that I wouldn’t be afraid or alone (in and out of the hospital). My parents have rearranged their lives to spend time with me in the hospital, at rehab and at home. Tommy and Arlene came nightly at dinner time putting their own dinners off to spend time with me as well as calling, texting and messaging several times a day.

I am so loved and I am so grateful. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

I really hope my blogs don’t come off as whiny. (not that I can’t be a whiny bitch from time to time) I’m writing to express myself and perhaps put out there that which unfortunately lives in my head. I also hope that maybe someone who’s going through similar circumstances will benefit from reading. You know you always read about these fantastic people who fight so bravely and go on with daily life as though nothing has happened. Not everybody can do that. Certainly I can’t. I have moments where I’m not sure if I’m terrified or just sad.

You see these beautiful women who’ve lost their hair to breast cancer, they’re all dressed up and have makeup on and they’re just radiant with hope and faith and gratitude. They amaze me. I get out of bed and take a shower every day because my parents are coming or because I have a doctor’s appointment but most of all because it gives me some structure to follow some sort of a schedule every day. I don’t know how they do it. I have moments when all I can think is, “I’ll never be pretty again.”

When it comes right down to it I have no right to feel sorry for myself. (pity party, party of 1 your table’s ready) I’m so fortunate to be alive. God willing the radiation will get the cancer that was not removed during surgery and I’ll go on with my life and the worst it’ll mean for me is I’ll be bald. My real hair was never really nice to begin with.

Please don’t write me off as whiny or weak. In real life I’m neither. Right now I’m feeling small, lesser, I’m afraid. I’ll work on feeling sorry for myself. I hope you’ll keep reading while I do.

*** Please note this post is not an indication of my not feeling good or that I’ve had a few bad days. In fact I feel great and thankfully I’ve had a string of really good days. ***

I wish I could tell you that I’m a brave patient. You know the one who soldiers on with a stiff upper lip, tons of resolve and a sunny disposition to boot? Yeah, I’m not that person.

It’s 6 weeks since my surgeries and I’ve grown weary of being “sick”. I don’t want to have to ask Chuck to do laundry for me or pick up something I’ve dropped. I don’t want to have to worry about being around too many people for fear of germs. I don’t want to face the stinkin’ kid who stared at me as mass let out last week.

I’m tired of being afraid. I had an episode (TIA) while I was in the hospital, that caused my mouth to droop and for me to be unable to speak correctly for a few minutes. There’s the possibility that it could never happen again and there’s the possibility that it could. I live in mortal terror that it will. Every twitch, every flinch, every everything terrifies me. My panicked thoughts immediately go to, “Is my mouth okay? Can I talk? Can I touch my nose with my eyes closed?”

I suffered from and battled a considerable amount of anxiety while I was in the hospital and the rehab. I was scared the dye from the CAT scan would cause an allergic reaction, I was afraid it would hurt or worse yet my head would bleed when they took the dressing off my head. I was afraid to be alone. Toward the end of my stay at Innova (rehab) I’d grown weary of the IV I received 3 times a day. I’d spend the half hour suffering, desperate to be unhooked again. I was even scared for the pic line to come out for fear that I’d bleed profusely from that artery now that I was on blood thinners. The more my health improved/improves the more I feared/fear something would/will happen to derail my progress.

It’s exhausting to live in fear that something is going to happen. It’s overwhelming when I think ahead to cancer treatments (radiation) and the unknown that lies ahead.

Prior to this 13 day stay at Cooper University Hospital and additional 5 days at Innova Rehab the only time I’d spent in the hospital was when I was 4 years old. If you’ve never spent any time in the hospital you have no idea how hard nurses work and just how difficult their job is.

They are for all intents and purposes your primary caregivers. In addition to actual medical duties like administering medications, drawing blood and checking vital signs (as if that wasn’t a full time job in and of itself) the same people help you in and out of bed, help you on to the bedpan or toilet, wipe you, bathe you, clothe you, change your sheets and make your bed. Oh and they bring you three meals a day and take your tray away when you’re done. It takes a special sort of someone to do all of that and maintain not only a pleasant demeanor but also treat each patient (and their family) with patience and kindness.

It’s hard to be helpless, it’s even harder to have to ask another person, a stranger no less, to help you on to a bedpan and then have to have them wipe you when you are done I was mortified to have to ask the nurses in the critical care ICU to do this for me. Not once did I feel like I was troubling them. The dignity and respect I was treated with was humbling. The nurses I encountered during my time in the hospital and rehab were nothing short of amazing.

There are some days I just don’t remember so there are some nurses I just can’t tell you about. The nurses mentioned below are not the only ones who did a great job they are the ones who stick out most in my mind.

Cathy/Christie/Something with a C – I woke up on Friday. On Saturday I needed a Cat Scan. I was very anxious but didn’t want to be knocked out and miss out on visiting with my family, who were all back in my room. She promised to give me something mild. But that’s not what sticks out in my mind most about her. She talked to me and Chuck (he was allowed to come with me) about her pets and her upcoming trip to New York to help soothe our jangled nerves while we waited for the Cat Scan. Most of all I remember her saying, “I’ll stay with you. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

Chatty Frank – He was my nurse Saturday night. All of my nurses were friendly and talkative but Frank was especially kind, chatty and personable. He let Chuck stay and watch a movie with me on my laptop until after 11pm. It may not seem like a big deal but it was to me. It allowed me to doze off to sleep with Chuck by my side. It was a great comfort and it made one of my first nights awake and alert in ICU less scary.

Richelle and Rosemarie – Richelle and Rosemarie took care of me on Sunday and Monday. I was feeling better by now and was more talkative. I don’t know how to explain it to you so that it makes sense but their presence was comforting. They talked to me. Not that my other nurses hadn’t but now that I was in better shape the interaction helped quiet my anxiety and made me feel safe.

Melissa (I think that was her name) – I moved to the ICU step down unit and got my first real taste of being out on the actual hospital floor. My room was right in front of the nurses station so I heard it all. I especially enjoyed listening to rounds every day. During my stay on this unit students nurses visited for two days. Melissa (I hope that was her name) “adopted” me. She helped me get washed in the bathroom and let me wash what I could of myself while I stood. She even washed my feet for me. Really, you just don’t know how hard it is to have to have complete strangers help you clean yourself. And how much less uncomfortable Melissa made it by talking to me and chatting away like two washer women. Don’t ever doubt that it is the little things that make the difference. They do.

I think this is long enough so I’ll end here. I’ll write about the rehab nurses in another post.

Evening kids. Hope everyone’s feeling good tonight. I know I promised my next entry would be about the doctors and nurses who took care of me but I’m pushing that to tomorrow. Tonight I’m dipping into the diary to share my day-to-day ups and downs.

Friday, October 29

I had a good day today. I took my shot on my own. I did it right. I even got that damn needle guard to release.

My parents came to visit to with me while Chuck worked and I received a gorgeous Halloween flower arrangement from my cousin-in-law and her fiance.

Saturday, October 30

Tom and Arlene came to visit and brought Mexican food (my favorite). The company was nice. The food was good. I had a sense of normalcy for a while then I got tired. The ups and downs are rough. I’m not feeling brave tonight.

Tuesday, November 2

I got my staples out at Dr. Matthews’ office.

Wednesday, November 3

Had a head CTV with dye at Booth Radiology. Got a CD to bring to my appointment with Dr. Bussey on Friday.

Thursday, November 4

No tests today!!! Mom and dad came to visit.

I must be losing my mind. Heard Bon Jovi’s Livin’ on a Prayer during Glee preview and burst into tears.

Friday, November 5

Went to my appointment with Dr. Bussey (neurosurgeon). Passed all the neurological tests. Blood clot on brain has shrunk. Will talk cancer at next appointment after another CTV and an MRI.

Stopped at Tacconelli’s and Barnes and Noble to celebrate.

Wednesday, November 10

Some days I do better than others. It’s a down day today. I have a rash on my stomach. It itches but the doctor doesn’t seem too concerned. Said if it gets worse to try to move my appointment with my primary care doctor up.

Today was my parents’ last day Carol Anne sitting for a while. (at least until Monday) I have to admit I’ve developed a fear of being alone. Thursday and Friday are going to be rough. I apologize ahead of time for the rash of needy phone calls. e-mails, text messages and Facebook updates.